Heart and Home
by Some1FoundMe
Summary: Post season 3. Five months on the road should be enough of a vacation but Felicity knows that it hasn't been long enough for either of them. The lives they left behind are distant, foreign, and she doesn't know how to go back. She doesn't know how to be the woman she was pre-running away with Oliver. **fluff**


**Author:** Some1FoundMe

 **Title:** Heart and Home

 **Rating:** K

Summary: Post season 3. Five months on the road should be enough of a vacation but Felicity knows that it hasn't been long enough for either of them. The lives they left behind are distant, foreign, and she doesn't know how to go back. She doesn't know how to be the woman that she was pre-running away with Oliver. She still exists, that old Felicity, but she's changed. Because she has spent the past five months knowing what it is like to love Oliver and to be loved by him in return.

A/N: Apparently I'm feeling exceptionally sentimental because this just turned into a gooey-fluffy mess… like a giant campfire marshmallow.

 **Heart and Home**

She watches him in silence as the lights of the city appear in the distance.

Neither of them have been eager for this. They aren't looking forward to it but they both know that it's time. Five months on the road should be enough of a vacation but Felicity knows that it hasn't been long enough for either of them. The lives they left behind are distant, foreign, and she doesn't know how to go back. She doesn't know how to be the woman that she was pre-running away with Oliver. She still exists, that old Felicity, but she's changed. Because she has spent the past five months knowing what it is like to love Oliver and to be loved by him in return.

He reaches for her hand across the center console and she relishes the way his calloused palm rubs against her smooth one. His long fingers are laced with hers, his skin dark to her light. The image brings a sad smile to her face.

"I don't want to go home."

She isn't surprised by his soft confession. They'd been called back unexpectedly and even though they'd gotten a longer reprieve than they'd expected, neither of them is ready to return.

"Me either."

He squeezes her hand, the pressure comforting, before releasing her to switch gears.

"I should go to the loft. Check on Thea. Do you want me to drop you off at home so you can unpack?"

She worries her lip between her teeth and glances out at the quickly approach city. They haven't spent more than a few minutes apart in the time they've been away. She knows that she should agree, that it would probably do her some good to be on her own for a while, but the idea of being away from him for even a few hours makes a knot form in her stomach.

She ignores it.

"That sounds good. I should probably start some laundry and go through my mail," she tells him, her tone rife with feigned enthusiasm, "And, you know, call my mom and let her know where we are. Barry is probably wondering why he hasn't heard from anyone – "

"Felicity."

She glances over at him.

"You can come to the loft with me," he tells her, "I'm sure Thea wants to see both of us. We can go to your place after. Or we can stay at the loft tonight."

She sighs, shaking her head.

"No, it's okay. It'll be fine. Drop me off at home."

"You sure?"

She nods. She isn't, of course. She would much rather stay with him. Not because she can't be on her own. She's been living alone in Starling City for almost six years. She'd graduated from MIT, been offered the job at Queen Consolidated, and left the life she'd loved in Boston in the dust. She knew how to live without Oliver at her side. She knew how to do it. The last five months have simply made her realize that she doesn't want to.

When they pull up in front of her townhouse twenty minutes later, her heart is in her throat. Oliver gets out with her, bringing her bag to the door as she fumbles with her keys. They're standing in her living room and she scans the familiar space as Oliver goes from room to room, doing a quick check that her home is safe. She doesn't have to ask. He returns a moment later and she is standing in the exact same spot by the door.

Oliver stops with three feet of space between them and it takes every ounce of her will power not to close the void.

"Are you going to stay with Thea tonight?"

She isn't sure what possessed her to ask the question but the moment the words are out of her mouth, she hopes that he will. She hopes that he'll stay because she suddenly feels the need to prove to herself that she can get through one night without him in her bed.

"Is that what you want?" he asks.

She shrugs, "Whatever you want is fine. I'm okay with it either way."

She realizes then that, in their time away, they have never actually discussed how things would be when they returned to Starling City. They spent so much time together, happy and laughing, exploring and relaxing and just _being_ that she doesn't know how she's supposed to be now that they're back in the real world.

And that's how she feels. Like the last few weeks have been a wonderful dream and she's just now beginning to wake up.

He takes two steps and she's in his arms, surrounded by the natural warmth his body puts off. Her arms band around his midsection and she fits herself easily beneath his chin.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

He kisses her forehead, lips lingering, and suddenly it feels like they're saying goodbye.

"I'll call you later, okay?"

She nods, "Okay. Tell Thea I said hi. Maybe we can all get together for breakfast or something."

He smiles the same indulgent smile that she's seen a million times in recent weeks and she presses up on her toes to kiss him properly.

"Goodnight, Oliver."

"Goodnight, baby."

She stands at the door and watches him climb back into the car with a soft smile tugging at her lips. When he turns the corner a minute later, she closes the door, locking it, and sighs.

This isn't home, she thinks, not anymore. Home is Oliver. It is his smile, his laugh, his assurances. It is the way he loves her and makes love to her. Home is wherever they are together. Her townhouse is just a dwelling now, just a roof over her head and walls surrounding her. None of their memories – their shared moments – are here but as she sinks down onto her sofa, she wonders if they can make some. Where will they settle? Will he move in with her? Will they share the loft with Thea? Does Oliver even want to live with her?

It seems an odd thing to worry over. Even though they've been traveling, even though they've been living as vagabonds for the better part of the summer, she doesn't know for sure how Oliver feels about making their living situation more permanent. She knows, of course, what she wants. She wants a life with him, a life filled with highs and lows, with excitement and adventure. She wants days that are slow and sweet, days spent in the quiet of their home and the safety of their bed. She wants to see more of the world with him. She wants to explore every aspect of herself and she wants to help Oliver discover the hidden pieces of his soul that they've only begun to uncover.

She gets to her feet and takes her suitcase and purse to her bedroom, her mind swirling with all of the little things that she's spent a lifetime praying for. She's never known a man like Oliver Queen. She has certainly never known love in the way that he's given it to her. And she knows that it is a rare thing, love born of true friendship, and she has promised herself not to take it for granted.

As she unpacks, sorting the few dirty articles of clothing from what she's sure is clean, she glances around her bedroom and tries to imagine him here.

The room is a mirror image of her personality. The colors are bright, from the duvet on her bed to the chair nestled in the corner to the knickknacks atop her dress, teal and lemon and coral and lavender and fuchsia. Bright screaming color pops out everywhere that she looks. It is who she is. Bright and loud and alive. And – she's discovered – those are the things that Oliver loves about her. She is certain that he would never ask her to change this space, that he would never want to lose the pieces of her that decorate her bedroom. But even as she takes in the place that she has called home for years, she imagines what it would look like with his clothes tossed in the corner chair. Photos of them together, with their friends, with her mother and his sister, replacing the random prints on her walls. She tries to picture his large body in her queen-sized bed and the image her mind conjures up causes warmth to spread through her limbs.

An almost desperate yearning stabs at her heart. She wants him here with her. She needs him.

But for tonight, she will swallow her need and let him be with his sister. She will give him the space he needs, the time to reconnect with Thea after months away, and she will do it because she knows that she can.

When her clothes are in her closet, her shoes on their rack, and her suitcase stored in her guest room, she pads out to the kitchen in her pajamas with her tablet tucked under her arm. Pouring a glass of wine, she carries it to the living room and situates herself on her sofa again, her feet curled on beneath her. The tablet is set on the table as she picks up the remote and finds a movie on TV to distract herself.

She has no recollection of falling asleep but she wakes to the sensation of being lifted into strong arms and pressed into a warm chest. She stiffens for only a moment before relaxing against him, turning her face to nuzzle him. His hold on her tightens and she can practically hear him smiling.

"You came back."

"I couldn't stay away," he murmurs, "I didn't want to wake up without you."

She is only mildly embarrassed by the sharp sting of tears in her eyes. He sets her down gently on the mattress and tugs the duvet out from under her. She gets a quick glimpse of him before he slides her glasses from her face. He is wearing a pair of worn sweats and a t-shirt. His feet are bare.

"How long have you been here?" she asks.

He shrugs, "Not long. I didn't want to wake you until I had to."

She realizes as he climbs into the bed behind her that she can no longer hear the hum of her television in the living room and that the hallway outside is dark. The lamp on her nightstand is turned off and Oliver's arm around her waist draws her back into the warmth of his body. Her heavy eyelids slide shut of their own accord.

"Love you," she breathes.

"Love you, too, Felicity."

"Stay."

His lips skim the exposed skin of her nape, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Stay."

She repeats the word and she feels it the minute understanding sets in. He wraps himself around her as much as possible before his whispered words fill her ear.

"I'm not going anywhere."


End file.
